


weathered

by JamtheDingus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dialogue Light, Family, Gen, Hugs, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hunk Birthday Week, Light Angst, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 16:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: The war has ended, and Hunk finds himself returning home.---A thin cloud of dirt and dandelion tufts sprouted across Yellow’s claws when she landed, coating her in fluffy white at the edges. Hunk ran his fingers across her dash, more to ground himself than anything else.Beautiful blue greeted him outside of her cockpit when he stepped down the ramp, and he paused to inhale the familiar air that he’d been too long from. When was the last time he’d been on his home island? Before he’d been dropped off at the Garrison, definitely.Much too long.





	weathered

**Author's Note:**

> written for hunk's birthday week! i was hoping to write more for him but i was in the roughest of rough patches this january asljdkhsalj
> 
> still, i'm proud of this one!

A thin cloud of dirt and dandelion tufts sprouted across Yellow’s claws when she landed, coating her in fluffy white at the edges. Hunk ran his fingers across her dash, more to ground himself than anything else.

Beautiful blue greeted him outside of her cockpit when he stepped down the ramp, and he paused to inhale the familiar air that he’d been too long from. When was the last time he’d been on his home island? Before he’d been dropped off at the Garrison, definitely.

Much too long.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the startled mass that had warily crowded around Yellow’s vicinity, except maybe twenty or so feet back in case she decided to attack.

Hunk grinned wide at them and flipped off his helmet. His hair, longer with the years he’s been away and graying at the edges from quintessence exposure, shawled across his shoulders. He self-consciously swept it across one side, to hide the dangerously long scar seared along his neck that was hidden by his spacesuit anyway.

He cradled his helmet under his armpit and held out his other hand in a friendly gesture, hardly able to contain his excitement. He could recognize a handful of the figures in the crowd— the farmer’s children who lived three streets down from him when he was a kid had grown up considerably, with a few kids of their own by the looks of it. The woman who was always studying the beach, who’d given him a necklace of seaweed because he’d said he liked the color, and who had helped him design his first lavalava (not made of seaweed, but instead of plain cloth) because she appreciated  _his_ appreciation of the colors there, too. And—

And his mother and brothers. They were all there, too, standing in the sidelines. His mother wasn’t short by any means, but his brothers still towered over her anyway, forming a protective circle around her just because that’s the only way they could fit near her sides.

She and Hunk caught eyes, and she squinted at him. Squinted for the longest, even when he took a hesitant step forward and Yellow lifted her head up to sit on her mechanical haunches. It wasn’t until his eldest brother dug into his pocket and handed her the fragile pair of glasses Hunk remembered her wearing when he was only six years old, that she recognized him. Her chest stuttered to a stop, breath caught in her lungs, and her hands shook as she reached for him the instant her vision cleared.

He hurried, stomping across the grass, only to be intercepted by his brothers in a tackle. They rolled across the grass, laughing and shouting and crying as they all hugged the life out of him. Hunk couldn’t even remember in the moment what they were shouting, but it made his heart sore and his eyes ache with tears, and it felt like  _home_. Like he’d never left, and they were just excited to see him after a long day at school— or after a long time of him being away at the Garrison. Like he hadn’t been away for a decade and a half.

His armor was stained with dirt and grass when they let him up again, but his mom didn’t care as she collapsed on her knees beside him and gathered him up in the strongest hug she could muster. She was older, obviously, but it was frighteningly apparent when he saw the crow’s feet crowding her eyes and the moonlight grey that overtook the beautiful brown color her hair used to be. Her hands were weathered from whatever hard work she’d taken upon when he’d disappeared. They’d never looked like that before.  

He carefully circled his arms around her, lower lip trembling. “I’m home, mom.” Then, he buried his head against her shoulder and squeezed her so tight that she grunted, even as she squeezed him back. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

“My sweet little boy.” She mumbled under her breath, leaning back to press her tiny, weary palms against his cheeks and kiss away his tears. He returned the favor by brushing his thumbs across her eyelashes and rubbing away the moisture. “I never stopped waiting for you to come home.” She swore.

“I know, mom. I never stopped wanting to come home.”

Heavy hands rested across his shoulders, back, and head as his brothers gathered around again, each emotionally fragile in their own way. They weren’t usually criers like Hunk was, but they were tearing up all the same. Their baby brother was finally home— after being rumored to have been kidnapped, killed, or even just lost in the desert for  _fifteen years_. There was so much to say but for now they were just happy to be able to hold him tight and be together.

They didn’t say anymore words, but the love (not to mention, the unadulterated mitigation of their combined grief) still nestled its way to his heart. There would never be enough time to describe how happy he was to see them again. And he knew that (and maybe he always knew) despite everything, here in his mama’s arms with his brothers and the familiar smell of grass and ocean, would always be his home.

**Author's Note:**

> hunk's birthday was on the 13th but every day is a hunk day c':


End file.
